


freefall

by great_gospel



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Second Person, TFA spoilers, alternating pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 13:44:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7224748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/great_gospel/pseuds/great_gospel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leia, Han, and falling apart to fall back together</p>
            </blockquote>





	freefall

**Author's Note:**

> Word Count: 1,002
> 
> Timeline/Spoilers: pre-tfa speculation to the events of tfa; MAJOR SPOILERS FOR TFA
> 
> Notes: This isn't the fix-it fic you're looking for. Trust me, I wish it was. Sort of an explanation for why Han and Leia drifted apart instead of coming together in the aftermath of what happened with their son.  
> Also, I still really like writing in second person.

You are a senator, a general – a leader – but more than that, a mother, and this should never have happened.

You've weathered worse arguments and waged bigger battles than this and always came out stronger. But the unsettling part was there was no fight this time, at least not between the two of you. Your son turned to the darkness, and you and your husband were left to pick up the shambles. You didn't fling biting words and incensed accusations. Instead, you threw yourself into your work, because leading resistances is all you've ever been good at. Relationships and motherhood certainly don't top the list of your greatest accomplishments, but you never expected to be back at the helm again, fighting the same fight you thought you'd already won some thirty years ago.

You distance yourself for your own sake and don't even stop to think how Han might be taking it. You've always had a one track mind, and that may be all well and good when revolting against the Empire, but it proves to be your downfall this time. He starts taking longer and longer missions until soon enough, he isn't coming home at all. And you feel twice the failure, for driving away child and husband alike. You don't attempt to contact him because if he wanted to see you, he would. At least that's how you justify it to yourself. (You're just afraid to hear him say he blames you, too.)

There's no big eruption that tears you apart. The flames of passion don't burn away, as they all predicted in your youth. Rather, there's a self-imposed rift that's quietly growing in between.

And this is how you come apart – not with a bang, not with a whimper, but without a word.

.

At the end of the day, she's a princess, and you're still just a scoundrel, and they both deserved better. You were never cut out for fatherhood. And you know it's the oldest excuse in the book, but you never had anyone to show you the ropes. And surely someone like you would never be fit to raise a child. Your hands are dirty and not just with the blood of the Empire, which is easily justifiable; blood of enemies from your smuggling days that surely didn't deserve death but that you couldn't be bothered to keep alive either.

"Leia doesn't want to see me."

And how could you possibly know? You figured that she had to blame you just as much as you blamed yourself. You never entertained the idea that she saw no fault in you, that she might even condemn herself. A man like you would only taint the ones he loved. But damn it all, did you try. And damn it all, did you (do you) love them.

Even so, the years haven't been kind to you. You're hardened and bitter, and still more wisecrack than wise. But there's some fleeting hope left alive, and you think this is what they call light. It's the light she saw in smuggler only out for saving his own neck (and maybe his copilot's), and it's the light you still see in your son.

And no matter if you tell Chewie that you're finally home aboard the Falcon, you both know that home is with another old girl. Home is Leia.

.

"Han, go _home_."

.

And you swear to god she's just as breathtaking as she was the day you married her, but maybe it's those old lungs of yours finally giving out on you.

You thought those sharp eyes of hers had been unnerving the moment your first met her, and now you remember why. She's looking at you like she's reading into your soul, and for some reason, you want to bare it all before her instead of turning tail and running like you're so used to. She's always had that effect on you, and maybe it works because there's a flicker of realization in those brown, brown eyes. She sees the guilt your harbor inside and instead of condemnation, you sense love and compassion, because of course she thought the same of herself you stupid, old fool. And you've wasted all this time being apart when you both know that as a team, there's no match for you two on this side of the galaxy.

You want to say something to clear the air, but by the look of it, she already knows.

.

You've got crow's feet around your eyes, and he's got spider veins crawling up his hands. You think to yourself how his face is more wrinkled than chiseled, but he somehow still has that same swagger in his stride that had you weak in the knees at nineteen. But, more than that, his chest still rumbles when he speaks, and his scent is all oil and machinery, and the crown of your head still fits tucked neatly under his chin, and the comfort of his arms has you feeling safe in a way nothing else ever has.

.

"Sweetheart, I'm home."

.

And then you're walking away from her for the very last time, knowing that you'll either return with your son in tow, or not at all. And you won't turn back for one more lingering glance because you're sure that if you did, you'd never leave.

And yet,

"Leia, I-"

"I know."

And there's a spark in her eyes that hasn't dimmed over these many years together – and apart. (Then again, those could just be tears, but you won't allow yourself to linger on that thought.)

Then, before you know it, you're flying into the fire on the wings of a promise.

.

"I'll bring our son home."

.

All of a sudden you're doubling over as a searing pain rips through you. It's reminiscent of the anguish you felt at the sight of Alderaan blowing to pieces in front of you, only amplified.

And then just like that, it ( _he_ ) is gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Title may or may not have been inspired by the freefall Han's body took towards the end of the movie.


End file.
